When We're Finished
by Tshirtgun
Summary: Arthur and Merlin have a talk about past mistakes, future successes, and the meaning of destiny. Bromance, not slash.


Author's Note: This one is a bit shorter and more serious than my previous two stories. I'm working on another fun one, but it's not all rainbows and puppies for the boys, so this one's more on the opposite end of that spectrum. Nothing really horrible though, promise!

Disclaimer: I do not own Merlin or any of the associated characters. They belong to Shine and the BBC.

"Show me again," whispered Arthur, staring at Merlin in a sort of fascination.

"You're sure?"

"Yes."

Merlin held out his palm and whispered something Arthur didn't understand. A bright little flame appeared in his hand and he looked up, eyes shining.

"Watch!" he said, and pursed his lips, blowing on the tiny fire, which left his hand and trailed through the air, growing until it spelled A-R-T-H-U-R. The prince's eyes widened, and a shocked little smile appeared on his face.

"Do something bigger."

"Hmm.. alright.." Merlin's fingers twitched and Arthur's name was sucked back into his hand. He lowered it to the ground in the clearing and blew on it again. This time it raced along the grass, burning what was underneath it but nothing else. It swept around in a huge circle, and then moved in large arcs and tiny zigzags until the Pendragon crest was written on the earth and the flame rolled back into its master's hand again.

"It doesn't hurt you?"

Merlin chuckled a bit and said, "No, it's wonderful. I've never felt anything better than magic. It's a warm sort of feeling and it gets everywhere, into my bones and all the way to the ends of my fingers and toes. It's lovely."

"I... I wish I could do it."

"Heh, prince of Camelot doing magic. Your father would die of shock."

Arthur's face darkened. "Maybe he.. gods, did I really just think that?"

"Think what?"

Arthur looked up at his friend with confusion and anger in his eyes. "Maybe he _should_ die. You're not evil, Merlin."

"I'm glad you think so, but what does that have to do with your father?"

"He's.. you've seen the executions, Merlin. The druids, the healers, the.. the children. I feel sick."

"Take deep breaths, Arthur."

He tried. "If magic is evil, the executions were right. My father is a king who will do anything to protect his people. But you're not evil, Merlin, and nothing will convince me that you are, after all you've done, all you've.. sacrificed, for Camelot and for me. So magic is not inherently evil. If magic is not evil.. then any of those people could have been - probably _were_ - innocent. Then the executions.. the executions were wrong, and my father is - is a - he's a monster, Merlin. He's a tyrant."

The prince closed his eyes as he forced the last word from his mouth. It tasted like ash, but he knew, even though he was saying _if_, that this was the truth. And if that was the truth about his father -

"Who am I, then, Merlin?"

"You?" Merlin said incredulously, "You are not your father, Arthur. I thought you already knew that."

"But I've done things on his orders that -" Arthur's voice failed him as he thought of the things he'd done. Entire clans of druids, wiped out on his father's orders. Men and women and children captured and held in the dungeons, most of them executed, burnt alive for a crime that did no harm to anyone, a crime that often brought nothing but good to people.

His eyes met Merlin's and the worst image he'd ever seen popped into his head, so vividly imagined that it could have been real. Merlin, tied to that stake in the middle of Camelot's square, terrified eyes locked onto an indifferent prince, who scoffed at the warlock and stared right back as the flames engulfed his tall, thin body and began to melt the skin from his prominent bones. Arthur couldn't breathe. He leaned away and vomited on the lush green grass of the meadow, so hard that mixed tears and sweat dripped down to join his dinner.

When he'd finished, Merlin was behind him, pulling Arthur backwards to collapse against his chest. A drop of water hit his face and he realized that Merlin had removed his neckerchief and summoned a ball of water to wet it. The excess water hovered in the shape of a bubble, steaming slightly in the cool night air. Arthur closed his eyes again when the rough fabric of the neckerchief was pressed against his face. Merlin silently washed away the sweat, the tears, and the flecks of sick that had splashed on him, and began to run his hands through Arthur's hair as they sat together under the darkening sky. There were a thousand things to say, but Merlin waited to speak until he knew Arthur was ready.

"You know," he started, his voice a bit scratchy from the long silence, "you once told me that no man is worth your tears. That was the stupidest thing I've ever heard you say. How could any man _not_ be worth tears? All lives are precious, Arthur. Every death is worth mourning. Mourn them, but understand that you can't change them. You've made mistakes, and I've made mistakes, but because of the past, we have the opportunity to change the future. So we feel sad about what's happened, but we don't let it crush us, because if we do, they will be for nothing. You and I are meant to change things, for everyone. We _will_ change things. You'll be the greatest king to ever live, and I'll be the most powerful sorcerer."

"I'm not that man," Arthur mumbled, so quietly it could barely be heard, "I'm not him, Merlin. I'm no great king, I'm a stupid child who follows his insane father without question. It's too late for me to be that king. You be the greatest sorcerer, and I'll - I'll just stay here." He crossed his arms over his knees and dropped his head onto them.

"I'll show you," whispered Merlin.

"How?" Arthur mumbled through his arms.

"Look."

Arthur closed his eyes, but bright light shone through his eyelids and he couldn't bear to disappoint Merlin, not right now. He looked.

The light came from a kind of portal, whose edges were crackling a bit with purplish sparks. It hovered in midair, and sounds were starting to come from it. As Arthur stared, an image began to form, too. There was an adult woman standing before a crowd of children, all sitting at little tables and copying words that were written on a greenish wall behind the woman. One child raised his hand, a thinnish boy with blond hair and very deep blue eyes.

"Yes, Kevin?" said the woman, indicating for the boy to put his hand down.

"Were King Arthur and Merlin real? Toby said they're made-up."

"Well, that's a good question. Nobody is sure, but there is a lot of historical evidence that, even if the details aren't exact, the story is real. There was a great king who brought peace to the lands of what's now called the United Kingdoms. He lived so long ago that any proof that may have existed has been lost, but no matter how much of our story is truth and how much is legend, Arthur is the representation of the perfect king. He was bold, chivalrous, and strong, and he wasn't afraid to stand up and change things. His bravery changed our lives for the better, that much is certain."

"And what about Merlin?" asked the boy.

"Merlin is a much harder question to answer, actually. Of course he's known as the world's most powerful sorcerer and King Arthur's right hand, but there's very little evidence of magic being real, at least not in modern times. Our best guess is that Merlin was very skilled at a mix of science and sleight-of-hand. But, magic or not, the important part of Merlin's story is that he was a protector and advisor to King Arthur, and, if the legends are true, they were the best of friends despite the fact that Merlin was born a peasant and Arthur a royal. Their love for each other and for the people of their kingdom changed the whole world for the better, and made the world we live in today possible."

The sound coming from the portal suddenly turned garbled and the image blurred. Arthur turned to look at Merlin and was quite alarmed at the sight of him. The warlock's eyes were squeezed tight, and sweat dripped from his forehead. He was very pale, swaying a bit where he sat, and jumped as if startled when Arthur grabbed his shoulders in both hands.

"Merlin!?"

"Sorry.. sorry. M'ok, just, that took a lot." He tried to open his eyes and immediately closed them again and he brought a hand up to rub at his forehead. "Ow."

"What have you done!? What _was_ that? Are you ill?"

"I'm fine, I'm fine. Just.. stand back from me for a moment, Arthur, please."

Arthur hesitated but obeyed, retreating about ten feet away from the warlock, who laid down and spread out his arms and legs, his fingers clutching at the grass they rested on. Little twinkling lights began to form around his slight body, as if they were little glowing raindrops being sucked from the air itself. They began to drip down onto Merlin's skin, which absorbed them instantly. More and more of the drops fell on him, until, after about five minutes, they started to lose their shine. A few last drips were absorbed into the warlock's pale skin, and when he sat up, breathing heavily, the rest of them dissipated back into the air. Arthur didn't know what to do, but he inched closer to his friend and set a hand on his shoulder.

"Sorry, Arthur," he said sheepishly, opening his eyes for good this time, "I didn't realize how much power that would take. Got the better of me a bit. But this clearing is full of residual magic of Kilgarrah's, and I was able to reclaim a bit of it to get myself back to normal."

Seeing no chance of understanding that, Arthur asked instead, "What was that vision in the portal?"

Merlin smiled, a bit more weakly than the prince would have liked, and said, "The future, Arthur. That's this spot, or somewhere close by anyway, fifteen hundred years from now."

"They were talking about us."

"Yes, that's why I showed you. The story we're writing now will be told forever. Long after that, that's just the furthest I could reach. You _are_ that man, Arthur; the perfect king. Bold, chivalrous, strong. Not afraid to stand up. That's you."

Arthur scoffed. "Not afraid to stand up? I knew it was wrong, all those deaths, and I never stood up. How can I ever forgive myself for them? Better yet, how can _you_ forgive me? Those were your people, your kin. Gods, it could have been _you._"

"I've been trying to tell you, Arthur, those mistakes turn us into the people we're _meant_ to be! The most perfect king and the most powerful warlock. Neither of us are finished yet, but we _will_ be." Merlin's eyes shone, bright and fierce and certain. "When we _are_ those men, Arthur, we'll turn the world into the place we want it to be, and it will _never_ change back. The future I showed you is _our_ design."

"Does that mean it's all just decided already? We're destined to be those men so we will be? Don't we have any choice in the matter? How do you _deal_ with this!?"

"It's a bit hard to explain," said Merlin, slowly and carefully, "It's like.. if you throw a stone into the river, it splashes. You know it'll splash before it does, because that's what happens when you throw a rock into water. We're like that, on a much bigger scale. We are who we are, so we'll always do things the way we're 'destined' to. Our destiny is nothing but the logical result of our existence."

"I think I halfway understand," Arthur chuckled weakly, "It's still a lot to swallow. Perfect king, powerful warlock, that's a lot to live up to. Am I - are _we_ really up to it?"

"I won't tell you it'll be easy," said Merlin, serious and sad, "There have been times already that I've thought, it's too much. Sometimes it's hard, it hurts, it's exhausting and terrifying and awful. I've felt so alone, and wanted so badly to give up at times, but.. Arthur, I could never give up on _you_. Even when I think I'm nowhere near enough for my destiny, without even knowing it you find a way to encourage me, at least enough to get through. You're already my king, and I will never, _ever_, let you go it alone."

He'd stared at the ground for most of what he'd said, but once he finished, he looked up at Arthur. They stared at each other, and the prince finally saw himself the way destiny did. The picture formed in Arthur's mind now; himself and Merlin, a unified force for good in the world, deciding what was right and making it true. The warlock was right, they weren't finished yet. Honestly, they were barely even started. But he could see it growing in them both; they would be two of the most powerful men ever to live.

He stood up and offered his hand to Merlin, who took it. Arthur pulled him to his feet and threw an arm over his shoulders, dragging the dark-haired boy along as he started back toward the castle. He smiled into the warm night air, and remembered what the woman in the portal had told the children.

'...they were the best of friends.'


End file.
